STRANGLEHOLD [1995] By Jack Ketchum
My Review 5.0 Out Of 5.0 Stars
This paperback tour de force originally appeared in the UK in the mid-nineties and it was originally titled “Only Child.” America’s own King of Horror Stephen King reviewed the British edition of “Only Child” and his observations about the unassuming paperback are chilling:
“This is a devastating novel, perhaps too powerful to be published in the United States.”
He happened to be incorrect about the novel being released in the US. However, King’s brief endorsement of the British Edition of “Only Child” (aka “Stranglehold”) was certainly en pointe:
“Jack Ketchum at his terrifying best!”
The sparse teaser description provided by the publisher tells us generally that a woman (Lydia McCloud) meets a man (Arthur Danse) at a wedding party in Plymouth, N.H., and she think he’s a man she could grow to love. Arthur sees things differently. In Lydia, he sees the sort of woman people always want to protect. He decides he’s going to show her “she wouldn’t always be protected.” The book “Description” elaborates that once she has given birth to their only child, Robert, that Arthur’s behavior worsens. The reader is then warned that when “the courts become involved,” the “nightmare” really begins.
The description does not include the salient fact that the character of Arthur Danse is unquestionably one of the darkest and most horrifying manifestations of evil in the flesh that Ketchum’s ever unleashed from his quiver of impressive hell spawn.
This lesser-known work by Ketchum is one which boldly underscores a truth about his body of work that is quite often overlooked. That is the fact that only a handful of novelists writing in the horror genre have biopsied the hard core of human horror, its exquisite cruelty and its accompanying base nastiness that flows through the human existence and its societal structures like an oily black river. Ketchum rarely penned a page of narrative that could be construed as supernatural, paranormal, or not of this world.
In “Stranglehold” Ketchum strategically sets the stage for the horror he would visit upon us. The storyline spans roughly four decades, from the early 1950s to the mid- ‘90s. The book’s Prologue is genuinely disturbing on a deep level for the likely unprepared reader. It is Easter 1953 and a new mother is undone by the incessant crying of her infant baby:
When she stood up and flushed, the baby screamed. She lifted the toilet seat and took hold of the baby’s feet, turned it upside down and thought, am I really going to do this? Am I? And the answer was damn right I am, I’m up to here with screaming whining sucking drooling pissing shitting I’m up to goddamn here with all of it.
She lowered its head into the water.
And held it there.
Bubbles.
Squirming.
Pathetic, puny.
Coughing.
Weakening.
The baby dying.
Her baby.
Oh jesus oh jesus god of jesus.”
Chapter one jumps forward nine years to New Hampshire 1962, and by page fifty we have quickly arrived at 1987. These years are told over a sequence of flashbacks where we are introduced to Lydia and Arthur as children, teenagers and then as university age adults, before they eventually meet and marry.
Ketchum never uses any misdirection or any sleight of hand that would mitigate how obviously remorseless and ruthless that the successful businessman Arthur Danse happens to be. In fact, it is within the reader’s purview to actually make a calculated guess as to how dangerous a man he is likely to be. There is an open police investigation into multiple homicides of young women, all exhibiting the same victim profile, method of murder and maiming, but also a signature for the serial killer. The violent sexual predator savagely rapes, sodomizes, and tortures his victims before mutilating them by the use of his signature nailing and stabbing. As in real life, the character of Arthur Danse lives an ostensibly normal life and goes about his daily routine which involves running a successful bar. Arthur is a sadistic murderous beast masquerading successfully as a normal adult man. Sociopaths are truly consummate masters at concealing their identities and Arthur is no exception. Art removes the mask only when he wants his companion to see his true self. In several instances it was my impression that dropping the mask was largely saved for his murder victims.
It is not long before long Arthur delights in showing his true face to his unsuspecting wife. In particular he had maintained “radio silence” on his sexual proclivities. Lydia is destined to find out not only what he likes to do to women but also that she has been living with a complete and utter stranger. Ketchum’s depiction of sexual acts is explicit and graphic, but as a reader it was never considered exploitative or gratuitous. In the same vein I would have to say that the extreme violence occurred off screen and the reader is spared the pain.
The details of the marriage from hell are difficult to stomach at times, particularly considering Ketchum’s unflinching iron grip on the narrative. The plot line morphs into the divorce from hell at approximately the halfway point of the novel. Ketchum’s writing is strong in this book, and unyielding. He is at the height of his game with this one.
More than half the book entails what happens in and out of court when Lydia files for full custody of her 8-year-old son subjected to aggravated sexual assault by his father. This is where the novel is firing on all cylinders and “Stranglehold” is an apt title because it is impossible to turn away from the action and the horror in and out of the courtroom.
Lydia is stressed to the point of breaking and she is a registered nurse not a lawyer or a law scholar. She makes mistakes that the reader knows will not go well for her in the proceedings, but this reader found it impossible to cast criticisms at her for her foibles. The boy Robert and his initial failure to comply with the authorities and admit that it was his father who hurt him made me crazy even when I knew the “why.” Lydia is far from perfect herself and a few key decisions she makes are so unwittingly damning and able to be turned on her by the defense it makes you want to throw things.
The author does a bang-up job with keeping the reader fully informed of what is happening legally and I liked how that the narrative was reliable in explaining the negative outcomes to Lydia. Arthur has a strong legal team battling his case for him; thus, it was a little surprising to see Arthur's psyche devolving as stressors escalated in and out of the courtroom. The seventh targeted victim of the violent sexual predator being hunted escaped. Along the way the book asks many questions about family, the long-term effects of abuse and examines the difficulties in breaking this cycle.
Ketchum is writing on all cylinders and not missing a beat, but this unflinching realism about sexual abuse of a minor and the haunted mother’s destiny and her son’s future being decided by the court system in “Stranglehold” is gut-wrenching and heart-wrenching. You could not walk away from the book, at least not for long, and it is so close to the headlines or to even a person you know personally that it is just an absolute heartbreak.
This was in the ‘90s that the trial was taking place. It would be my hope that Ketchum exaggerated how awful it was at that time. Then, there is the ending which could not be bleaker if it tried. Again, it is a fact that Ketchum was making a point about failures in the American judicial systems, but whether he was exaggerating is debatable. I do know that Ketchum did use news accounts, true crime stories, etc. as the foundation for his work. This fictional case was approximately 35 years ago, so we can breathe a little easier because of the length of time and how forensic science has advanced.
Finally, I have read the “instant name recognition” novels by Ketchum, notably Offseason, Offspring, The Woman, and The Girl Next Door. That said, “Stranglehold” may not be ranked among his best, or certainly not his most talked about, but this 247-page novel and its unflinching account of violent domestic abuse and that of a wife and young son caught in a sadist’s brutal web is second to none for my money, and 35 years after it was released it can punch you in the solar plexus 10 out of 10 times. This book bothered me a lot, and it was second only to The Girl Next Door narrowing it down to Ketchum’s works.
SECOND ONLY TO ‘THE GIRL NEXT DOOR” IN EMOTIONAL WRECKING POWER